Dinner that night was a lively and boisterous affair. Most of the guests had spent the afternoon drinking and that, coupled with the fact that they were on a gorgeous and private tropical island for the next six days, made for a rather spirited dinner. It didn’t hurt that it was served and eaten at a large granite table on the patio with a breathtaking ocean sunset in the background.
And the food certainly lived up to the celebration and setting as well. They were served a feast of dishes family style, including fresh conch chowder, red snapper ceviche, local rum-cured Atlantic salmon, plantain-crusted dorado (known to most Americans as mahi mahi), and a roasted yucca and beet salad with locally made goat cheese, among others.
Kyle dominated the conversation for much of dinner, congratulating each of them on their work performances. Most of the guests actually seemed quite grateful to get the compliments. As much as Kyle reminded Giles of the typical, phony blowhards that rich executive types often were, he did seem genuinely well liked by most of the employees. And, in spite of his obvious lack of a strong ethical core, the red-faced man also seemed rather pleasant and generally well-meaning.
Giles had actually assumed that Kyle was the killer when they’d all first arrived; he had helped arrange this retreat after all. But the more time he spent near him, the less likely that seemed to be true. The question, then, was: If not Kyle, who was the killer this time around? As Giles well knew, it may be impossible to guess until the end. He certainly had never truly suspected Jacqueline Bossart as being the psychotic engineer of the game on the Westlake Estate.
As dinner concluded, Giles wondered when the game would actually begin. The other two times it had started shortly after the guests’ arrival that first day. They’d already made it through dinner today and a murder had yet to occur. It was definitely now the longest start of the three games of murder so far. Giles should have been happy about that. After all, what kind of monster hopes for a murder to happen quickly? But at the same time, the anticipation was almost unbearable. He just wanted to get the whole thing over with. The sooner the killing started, the sooner it would all be over. They were horrible thoughts to be having, but such were the side effects of even worse curses.
Little did Giles know then that he would not have to wait much longer for the game to begin.
“Thank you again for joining us this evening,” Giles said, addressing the somewhat rowdy and drunk guests after they finished a dessert that had consisted of fresh local fruit and rum cake. “I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed your first day here. Now you are of course free to stay up and continue to socialize. But I must warn you, we have a splendid poolside party planned for tomorrow afternoon, so you might be well served to get a good night’s rest. But, as it is your vacation, the choice is yours to make. The servers will be pouring drinks until ten P.M. local time. However, the self-serve bar is open twenty-four hours for your convenience. Have a wonderful evening and enjoy the rest of your stay.”
The rowdy crowd of eleven applauded Giles and the start of what they believed would be a great vacation before dispersing from the table into separate groups. Most retired to their rooms soon after, exhausted from a long morning of travel followed by a day spent out in the sun drinking.
Around two hours after the conclusion of dinner, the mansion stood mostly quiet. But the tranquil tropical silence was rudely shattered by a loud bang, one that sounded ominously similar to gunfire, coming from the western side of the mansion at 11:28 P.M. Giles was in his quarters but still dressed, not wanting to retire for the night until the game officially began.
It seemed that his wait was now over.